The Birmingham city hall was just as expansive as Liverpool's, which I had visited recently. Both venues were renowned for their massive capacity, so their scale did not catch me off guard.
However, even a space this grandiose felt claustrophobic once the invitations were fully claimed.
"Are there really this many lords in existence?" I asked, scanning the teeming crowd.
"Strictly speaking, they aren't all owners," Katalina clarified. "It's a mix of landowners and their primary advisors."
"Still, that implies a third of this room holds territory."
"Precisely."
The sheer volume of influential players gathered in one spot was staggering.
"Everyone seems to be dressed in the same style," I observed.
Katalina had traded her usual gear for a formal white gown accented with gold. A simple red mantle rested on her shoulders, giving her an air of regal authority.
"Aha, I guess you're curious about the outfit?"
"Yeah."
"It's likely your first time seeing it, Ellie. This is the [Dress suit of Honor], the standard uniform for those with titles. It includes this tiara. There are subtle variations for men, but the aesthetic is largely uniform."
I noticed that while colors and guild crests varied, the fundamental design remained consistent across the different factions.
"Is there a stat boost?"
"None at all. Since it's classified as social attire, it's purely cosmetic."
Despite my past as a landowner, I did not recall such a system. The concept was intriguing, though it felt odd to wear gear that provided no tactical benefit.
"Is it a permanent addition to the inventory?"
"No, it's a rental of sorts. You only possess it while you hold your title."
"I see. Thanks for the info."
"Gosh, Ellie, no need for formalities between us," she said, playfully patting my head.
It was an intimate gesture that felt too awkward to brush off in public.
"Whoa... Guild master, keep it professional," an officer from Volcano teased.
"We're all still single here, you know..."
"If any of you value your current salary, you'll remain silent," Katalina snapped.
"...Devil," one muttered.
"Witch," added another.
Her cold gaze effectively silenced her subordinates. I realized then how terrifyingly efficient a dictatorship could be.
"Attention, please!" a voice boomed.
A man stood on a raised dais in the center of the room. The chatter died down as all eyes shifted toward him.
"Break time is over. We shall resume the assembly."
He looked to be in his late thirties. His voice carried a resonance and weight that commanded respect.
His sharp, stubby beard and stern eyes gave him a formidable appearance that matched his measured tone.
"Who is he?" I whispered in Katalina's ear.
"Ah... that's Terror. He's the fourth-ranked player globally."
Katalina began fanning herself, her face flushing slightly as she answered. Unfortunately, she didn't realize how loud she was being.
"Pardon me, but could you keep your private discussions to a minimum? Thank you."
Terror had not looked at us, but it was obvious who he meant. I felt heat rising to my cheeks and looked down to avoid the collective stare of the room.
"What is wrong with you?" I hissed under my breath.
"Mmmh..."
Her face was now a deep crimson. I worried for a moment if she was having a glitch in her sync. She leaned in close to my ear.
"I'm... extremely sensitive there."
I'd heard the haptic feedback in these capsules was revolutionary, but this was a bit much.
We both spent the next few moments looking in opposite directions, trying to regain our composure.
"...and now, we'll hear from the individual guild masters," Terror concluded.
I tuned in as best I could, but much of the political jargon was lost on me. It seemed they were debating imminent threats and prior losses.
"I am Majesty," a man began, identifying himself as the leader of his namesake guild. "Terror, thank you for the summary. However, you've indicated that Volcano is the primary target for Shining and Chaos."
"Indeed. Given that Volcano's assets nearly rival Shining's, it's the logical choice for an assault."
Katalina's expression darkened as her guild became the focal point of the debate. Her officers grew visibly tense.
I recalled hearing rumors about Majesty harboring deep-seated resentment toward Volcano, forming a small coalition to counter their influence.
"Then the solution is obvious," Majesty continued. "Volcano is our strongest member. They can surely withstand a dual offensive. If they're on the brink of collapse, perhaps we'll step in."
He was essentially suggesting they act as cannon fodder. If Volcano was crippled, Majesty would simply pick up the pieces.
Slam!
"Is that an official declaration of hostility?" her voice rang out like ice.
"My, is the mighty Volcano guild master losing her nerve just because the odds are slightly stacked?"
The new voice did not belong to Majesty. A man from Tempest, Newton, had stood up to join the fray. He was part of the same anti-Volcano circle.
"Gentlemen, please. We are here to coordinate, not bicker," Terror interjected, attempting to maintain order. "Please, return to your seats."
Katalina sat, though she looked ready to tear the room apart.
Her mood was abysmal.
"They're part of that coalition, anyway," I whispered, trying to soothe her. "Their opinions don't carry weight."
[They've already moved against us.]
The sudden shift to the private message channel startled me.
[What do you mean?]
I was confused. I did not remember reading any reports of an open conflict while I was away.
[It's a shadow war. They've barred our members from their territories, halted all trade with our guild, and even forbid social partying with our players.]
That was a blatant act of aggression.
[Really?]
[This has Senas's fingerprints all over it.]
Now I understand why Katalina wanted me here. The situation was dire.
"How intriguing," I mused with a dry chuckle.
Katalina shot me a worried glance. The meeting dragged on, but it was clear that no common ground would be found.
The lines were drawn. Majesty and Tempest remained openly hostile toward Volcano, while Shining and Chaos were preparing their strike. Other guilds like Storm and Zenon were too preoccupied with their own agendas to help. The Empire guild offered a hollow gesture of support that felt more like a display of dominance. The smaller guilds simply watched, hoping the giants would destroy each other.
Ultimately, Volcano would have to face the combined might of Shining and Chaos with a diminished force. However, several smaller guilds remained loyal to Katalina, and Eva from Sapphire had pledged her assistance.
The entire server was fracturing into two camps. I had three days until my coronation and four days until the onset of the siege.
-
The three-day interval slipped away with startling speed. Katalina redirected her entire focus toward the impending conflict, exhausting every diplomatic channel to recruit unaligned factions to her cause. In spite of her persistence, the outcome remained largely unchanged.
On several occasions, she seemed on the verge of speaking to me, only to hesitate and withdraw into herself. I could guess the nature of her anxiety without needing to pester her. She was likely wrestling with the ethics of involving me in such a brutal theater of war. That concern clearly weighed heavily on her.
While the manor itself remained calm, a palpable excitement hummed among the staff. They were clearly eager for the household to finally have its legitimate head established after such a lengthy vacancy.
"My lady, you look absolutely stunning!"
Sara was generous with her flattery as I stood before the glass, adorned in the regalia designated for the coronation ceremony.
"Really?"
"Oh, my lady, you seem so unimpressed. Is it not to your liking? It appears your standards for fashion are far more demanding than I anticipated."
"Demanding?"
"Indeed. You usually favor such practical garments. That's why I was surprised. Though I suppose a milestone of this magnitude requires a certain level of scrutiny."
Sara was clearly swept up in the festive spirit. For me, however, the primary concern was the sheer physical restriction of the garment.
"The mobility is quite limited," I remarked.
"It's the nature of the dress, my lady. You should count your blessings that we've moved past the dark ages. Imagine the discomfort then! Hoho!"
The medieval era. Had I been born then, I'd be enduring the torture of a full-body corset. Even now, the undergarments felt like a tightening vise, making each breath a deliberate effort.
"Now that you're dressed, we must attend to your face. Please wait just a moment, my lady. Hmhm~"
Sara departed, her cheerful humming echoing in the hall.
I turned back to my reflection. The gown was elegant in its simplicity—a form-fitting white silhouette that could easily be mistaken for bridal wear. The distinction lay in the family crest prominently displayed on my left breast and several intricate ornaments whose specific meanings escaped me.
By any objective standard, it was a masterpiece. The bare shoulders added a touch of daring, and any casual observer would have deemed the effect magnificent.
The complication, of course, was that I was the one inside it.
"This is unsettling," I muttered.
Lacking any prior history of cross-dressing, I found the sensation of wearing the opposite gender's finery profoundly alien. While my unique circumstances dictated this choice, the logic did little to settle my nerves.
"Right, the registry," I remembered, recalling the butler's instructions.
I picked up the neglected memo from the table. It detailed the complex web of the royal lineage and the tangled alliances of the noble houses. Words like prince and princess—concepts that felt like relics of a dead era—dominated the text. The realization that I was about to stand face-to-face with the figures I'd only ever seen through a screen made me feel profoundly strange, much like the jitters one might feel before meeting a legendary celebrity.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
"My lady, it's Sara."
"You may enter."
The door swung open, and Sara led a small entourage into the room. It was immediately apparent that these were specialized professionals rather than manor staff.
"These are the cosmeticians. Please, show your respect—this is Duchess Elizabeth."
"An honor to meet you."
"A pleasure, your grace."
I acknowledged their bows with a measured nod, a habit ingrained by the butler's relentless etiquette drills.
The transformation began. To shield the gown, they draped a silk wrap around my throat, and I reclined in the chair to endure the process. It was a novel experience, sitting still while my face was meticulously treated. It wasn't fundamentally different from a professional haircut, yet the focus on my features made it feel far more personal.
An array of brushes and exotic tools were deployed, resembling an artist's palette ready for a canvas. Lashes were enhanced, powders applied—it was a struggle to maintain the required stillness.
"Your natural beauty requires so little enhancement."
"Your complexion is flawless..."
"And your hair is so incredibly vibrant. You must be very diligent in its care."
"We have finished. Please, tell us what you think."
The lead artist held up a glass, her eyes searching mine for approval.
"Let's see."
I peered at the reflection with feigned detachment, only to be struck by a sudden sharp intake of breath. The work was subtle—nearly imperceptible—yet the effect was transformative. My skin possessed an otherworldly glow, and the sharp definition of the eyeliner lent me an air of dangerous, regal beauty.
I had always known that cosmetics could work wonders, but seeing the evidence firsthand was startling.
"Is it satisfactory?"
"It is."
It was more than sufficient, and since any critique would only result in more time in the chair, I accepted the results.
"We shall take our leave, Duchess."
They bowed once more, but as they were departing, the youngest member of the group slipped me a card.
"We would be honored to host you at our studio!" she said, her bright eyes shimmering with ambition.
Despite the sharp looks from her superiors, her professional mask never faltered as she exited.
"She is certainly dedicated," I noted.
Sara, who had been hovering anxiously, finally allowed her shoulders to drop in relief.
"Now that we are ready, we should move. A royal limousine is waiting at the gate."
"A limousine?"
"Yes, a vehicle dispatched from the palace itself."
An official royal escort. Intrigued by what such a luxury might entail, I followed her outside.
"Exquisite."
"Simply breathtaking."
The employees offered a chorus of genuine admiration as I passed,.
"Heavens, Ellie, you are a vision."
Katalina, radiant in a pale yellow gown that spoke of pure innocence, greeted me with a playful gesture of approval.
"Nonsense, Lina, you are the one who looks spectacular."
There is a profound difference between casual flattery and genuine awe. While my own appearance held no charm for me, I was truly struck by the effortless grace of her attire, a sentiment she clearly mirrored.
"You... you truly think so?"
Her voice actually wavered slightly.
"I do."
"Oh, Duchess, do not tease her. The amount of effort we spent on... Mph!"
One of Katalina's personal attendants began to lament the morning's labors, only for Katalina to silence her with a swift hand over her mouth.
"Not another word!"
The shy, vulnerable girl had vanished, replaced by the commanding presence that was far more familiar. I quickly intervened before the poor girl suffered further.
"We should depart. We don't want to be late."
"Yes... quite right."
We entered the plush interior of the limousine together. While the exterior was distinguished only by the royal crest, the cabin was a masterwork of opulence.
"Incredible..."
Gilded accents and shimmering gems decorated every surface, creating a space that felt less like a vehicle and more like a mobile treasury.
"I had heard descriptions, but the reality is quite different," Katalina remarked, her own eyes wide with wonder as she took her seat.
"We are departing now."
The driver offered a warm, professional smile, seemingly amused by our awe.
"Ahem."
"Mh..."
Realizing we were being observed, Katalina immediately regained her composure, her face settling into a mask of stoic dignity.
The engine purred to life, and the vehicle glided away from the manor, escorted by a full security detail as we made our way toward Buckingham Palace.